THEN AGAIN • TC ✔️

22. Calculations

It's really, really fucking cold.

Clem put two scarves on before she left. She made sure Timmy did too, but it's still cold enough to freeze the sun and she shivers a little as they step out either side of the car. The snow spits against her face as she turns towards Timmy, who's twirling his keys around his fingers and rounding the bonnet.

"Excited?" he asks, grinning. She can't really see him grinning, because half his face is obscured by the numerous scarves, but she can just tell. She nods. Sidles closer towards him, and they make their way through the parking lot.

They might actually be too early, but least they're on time. Streams of well-meaning families and friends trickle inside the theatre foyer, milling around. There's an energetic buzz of chatter, and Clem can't help it. She's excited, too. (Even if it is Sondheim.)

Timmy points things out to her from the posters on the walls. He shows her a picture of his favourite student in full Newsies garb, shows her the faces of the kids he keeps telling her about but she is yet to actually meet. Clem loves it.

(Loves it even more when a herd of people pass them, and Timmy reaches out a hand. Places it on her lower back to steer her out of the way. He keeps it there, sliding it gently onto her waist, over her coat. Yeah, she really loves that.)

The two of them stand there chatting to each other. Clem watches as he transforms before her eyes from Timmy to Mr Chalamet, and then back again. Watches as he talks to other teachers, exchanges smiles and greetings and glances with other students, other staff. Even introduces Clem to some of the pupils who come up to him.

(And of course they come up to him, because he's that teacher who you really wouldn't mind having as an actual friend. He's that teacher that everyone has a crush on, platonic or not, that teacher who always actually seems to care about how you're getting on. It's no wonder he's so popular.)

Clem nods and smiles bemusedly, unused to this little world that Timmy has built up around him, unused to this Timmy who hardly ever stumbles over his words, who is calm and collected but still passionate and engaging. (That's not to say that he's not those things usually - he is - only usually it takes him five minutes to finish a sentence that could have been said in five seconds.)

His hand never leaves her waist, and it's a calming presence as they stand there, part of the swarm in the foyer. Both of them jump when a pair of hands clamp down on Timmy's shoulders from behind. They look round, and there's a familiar looking boy wearing a broad grin. He smiles even wider when he looks at Clem.

"Sir, did you finally-"

"Hey, man!" Timmy smiles, cutting him off. "You looking forward to the show?"

The boy doesn't look the least affronted at being interrupted. In fact, he looks almost smug, and Clem wants to tell Timmy to shut up. Wants to know what the boy was going to say.

"Mhmm," he nods, pressing his lips together like he's biting back a smile. Clem glances over at Timmy, searches his face briefly for any hints as to what's making the guy laugh.

(She wonders momentarily if it's her. Wonders if it's funny to him that Timmy's brought her along. Wonders if there's something wrong with the way she's dressed or if there's something in her teeth or-)

But there's nothing; or, at least, she can't see anything of interest. There's no expression, no emotion at all, really, except for the fact that Timmy's mouth, too, is perked up at the corner. It must be some kind of joke between them, which would explain why she's not getting it. Clem relaxes a little.

"Are you going to introduce me, Sir?" the boy asks, looking piously between her and Timmy. Timmy, at her side, takes a deep breath. Exhales heavily, smiling, and raises a hand between Clem and the boy.

"Leo, Clem. Clem, Leo."

Leo, the boy from the grocery store. It makes sense now.

"I remember you," Leo says calculatingly. Clem feels a little uncomfortable but she takes the boy's outstretched hand; shakes it gently. Nods. "Hmm," Leo says again, and Clem wonders if he's always this contemplative or if he's just trying to make a point.

"Well, Sir. I hope it works well for you. See you in math."

Leo sends them a little salute, and is suddenly bouncing his way back into the crowd, darting around milling grandmothers and small children. Timmy is laughing, shaking his head, his shoulders jerking lightly. Clem looks at him pointedly.

"What?" he asks.

She glances back into the crowd, but the path left in Leo's wake has quickly filled over. Still, she looks back at Timmy.

"Oh, just a little joke we have," Timmy says quickly, offhandedly. Smiles at her as there's a commotion behind them, and Clem realises that the doors to the auditorium are opening. Timmy's arm is stretched out in front of them, and it takes her a few moments to realise that he's offering it to her.

"Oh," Clem laughs softly. Takes his arm and wraps her own around it, hugging it to her chest as they're told where their seats are. It's actually quite exciting now, what with the warm house lights and frenzied chatter. They part to take coats and scarves off, arranging their outer layers into little nests on their seats which they can sit on.

And then they're sitting. Close. (Probably too close.) Timmy's foot jiggles up and down impatiently, and she laughs, looking at him.

"What?" he asks. Clem shakes her head, revelling in the fact that his face is so close to her own. In the fact that she can see the little freckles on his top lip.

"Nothing," she replies distantly, looking back at the empty stage, smiling. Timmy's hand slips onto her knee, squeezing it gently as they listen to the orchestra tuning up.

By the time the house lights dim, their hands are laced together in between their seats.